One More Chance
by britwriter
Summary: Two people, born 500 years apart, are brought together. Neither of them are willing to trust their hearts to love again after bitter disappointments in their lives. Will things change and will they take another chance?
1. Prolouge

**Disclaimer: I don't own any rights nor make any profit of this story. All rights belong to J K Rowling and the producers of The Tudor**.

The end was approaching. All Anne had wanted to say had been said. She knelt down and looked out among the crowd. So many familiar faces had come to see her final breath, to see her ultimate destruction, after she had been blamed for many of Englands wrongs over the past few years. How soon they would realise that she had surprisingly little to do with the changes. True, she was no angel. She had caused many problems but she regretted them thoroughly. Now she was little more than a scapegoat.

As so many men from court stared at her with smug little quirks of their lips, she couldn't help but wonder which one would end up here next, who else would fail Henry in some way, and be deemed a traitor. Personally, she hoped it was Cromwelll. She knew that he was to blame for her situation now. How she wanted him to pay.

Anne took one last glance around and saw dear old Thomas Wyatt stood near the back, tears streaming down his face, his heartbreak over her death clearly worn on his sleeve. Her heart clenched as she questioned how different her life would have been had she allowed her heart to go out to him. She took a moment to wonder at the decisions that had ruled her, and the many mistakes that had been made. Should she have fought harder for Henry Percy? Should she have loved Wyatt, or not argued with Cromwell. What would have been her fate had she consented to be Henrys Mattress-en-Titre? What about that letter? The letter that had quickly been burned in the fire, never to be talked about again. It wasn't long after that, before she was quickly shipped off to get a proper education, first in the Netherlands and then in France. Would that have changed her life? No matter, that was the past. There was no future for her.

She closed her eyes and started to pray, waiting anxiously for the final blow. Though she was supposed to be praying her mind kept bringing up the image of the one she loved most in this world. All she could see was how scared she had looked the last time she saw her, after witnessing that awful argument. Anne kept hearing Elizabeths childish pleas, wanting to know why her papa was cross, why her mama was crying. After a small reassurance from Anne, she had calmed down and said goodbye, before toddling off with her governess. How young and innocent she was. Her Elizabeth would now be alone, with so few a people willing to stand up for her. She could only hope that Henry would not be too unkind and cruel to her.

Sudden movement brought her back to reality. When somebody touched her Anne glanced up and realised that the executioner had moved a small piece of her hair out of her face. What was supposed to be a kind gesture had unnerved her. He stepped back and her eyes followed him, searching for the sword. She couldn't see it, hidden as it was, so she forced her head forward for a few seconds before turning her head again, nervous that any second now she was going to be executed. She fought to keep her head forward, her breathing quickened and she felt herself panicking losing her composure, wanting it to be over but at the same time dreading it.

"Boy. Fetch my sword," was the call from just behind her. Her head swung around looking for the sword, wanting to see the instrument of her doom but could see no boy, save the young son of Brandon, who stood there with a mixture of awe and terror across his face. Realising this was a trick, she felt a small tear escape down her cheek. She saw near the walls of the tower a flock of birds take off and she watched them, marvelling at their freedom. Then she heard it. The sound of air being rapidly sliced through. Before she could react she felt a blow to her neck and followed by blinding agony, such as she had never felt before. The pain though quickly disappeared and everything started fading, the feeling of falling from a great height overcoming her, she fell into darkness.

A/N: I hope to update fairly regularly , but have no set schedule so could potentially be weeks between posts. Please forgive any spelling or grammatical errors.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own any right nor make any profit from my writing.**

The ground was fairly hard, that was her first thought when she regained consciousness. She didn't know what she had been expecting when she was preparing for death, but a hard floor never entered into her mind. Along with this oddity strange smells hit her nose. She expected cleanliness and purity such as she sometime got in the open countryside or at sea during crossing between Dover and Calais. This however smelt completely different. It smelt like burning flesh and wood. In that moment, panic seized her. Had her past actions had been enough to truly destroy her. After all, she had grown up with stories about evil and corrupt souls condemned forever to burn in the fiery pits of hell. Gathering her courage, Anne opened her eyes and squinted for a moment, giving her eyes a moment to adjust to the light. She was in a fairly large room. Her eyes alighted on many painting hung up on the walls. Most of these portraits were filled with books, tales and chairs, and yet each had a sense that something big was missing out of each of them. How peculiar it seemed to Anne. She looked around getting more confused. There was a desk in this room, with objects sat upon it that were most strange. Some were making odd noises and were of a variety of odd shapes. Suddenly from somewhere outside she heard jubilant cheering. For a moment she felt indignant. Anne knew that she was hated but to celebrate her death in such a way was down right distressing. She had hooped that the crowd kneeling just before her death was assign of respect, such as she had craved in her years as queen.

Though she was most uncomfortable on the floor she did not dare move in case she incurred the wrath of whoever would come to judge her. She had hoped that it would be easy, that all would be well and she would be reunited with George soon, but that seemed unlikely. She thought the best course of action was remain where she was, try to appear humble, something that she had struggled with since being a little girl. Arrogance and haughtiness was something that came naturally to her. Anne was able to wear those two traits as easily like most people wear clothes.

Time continued to pass and the cheering had eventually died down. The crowds would be dispersing she thought. She idly wondered what they had done with her mortal body. She couldn't recall seeing even a plain casket laid out waiting. She hoped she had maintained her dignity when she fell. Despite what people may think of her, she had no wish for people to see her in such an immodest way. Anne had deliberately rearranged her skirts after kneeling to try and prevent them flapping everywhere and revealing herself. She allowed her mind to wander as she pondered where Henry was. Was he within hearing range of the great canons, wanting to know she was out of the way, or would he be with that pasty faced thing that she was sure to replace her, though god only know how such a plain girl could attract Henry. Such dullness, she mused, was so unlike herself. There, perhaps, lay the attraction

Anne soon after became appear of the slight murmuring of people. She held her breath waiting for the appearance of those she presumed were now on their way to judge her. She saw movement but not through the great oak door where she was expecting. The frames which had once held the paintings were now filling with people. Men made up the majority of those present but the occasional women could be spotted amongst them. They were talking excitedly among themselves, most of them happily, all seemingly unaware of the women still sat upon the floor. She couldn't help but notice all were dressed in peculiar of fashions but she supposed that fashions change all the time.

One of the men who appeared in the portrait entered with rapturous applause. He had long silver hair and a long sliver beard with strange glasses perched on his nose and bright blue eyes. They were all still congratulating him for something when one of the newly filled portrait noticed she was there.

"My dear. Were you in the battle?" he asked kindly.

" Battle?" Anne replied confused. All of the portraits where now looking at her and she swallowed nervously.

" You do look in a bit of a state, that looks to be a nasty injury to your neck. You should have that looked at in the hospital wing." At the mention of her neck her hands flew up to it. She felt rough skin and her hands came away with flecks of dried blood. Anne was surprised her vanity had not made her think of neck earlier. Now she was cursed for all eternity to have this awful wound.

She remained unsure of what to do next. When she had been imprisoned in the tower she had imagined what would happen. She had thought that there would be one person resembling St Peter who would weigh her soul, figuratively or literally she wasn't sure. She was even prepared to have to review certain points of her life, to make her case for being allowed in to heaven. Instead the portraits sere all looking at her. It soon became clear that something was wrong.. Moments of silence passed before she gained the courage to speak.

"Where am I" Anne asked. Several of the portraits frowned at each other.

" You are at Hogwarts dear" replied the man with the long silver hair.

"Hogwarts" Anne questioned. The name stirred something in her memories though why she could not say. Instead of saying more, she started to study the faces that were currently staring at her. None of them looked overly hostile, merely wary. She slowly made her way round before her breath caught in her throat. One of the portraits was of a man who seemed familiar to her. His clothing certainly was of similar style to that of which she was used to. She studied his face, with his short grey beard and deep green eyes. He gazed back at her.

"Do I know you my lady." he questioned.

Anne gasped as a memory came flooding back in her mind.

 _She was a young girl, just passed her eleventh birthday. Her papa was arranging an education for her, his ambitions recognising that Anne herself had a determined streak, and though not as classically beautiful as her sister Mary, still had great potential, and a mind that while more suited to a son could still be useful. However this had been marred upon receiving a strange visitor._

 _She was sat hidden in the balcony overlooking the entrance of her home Hever Castle as her father Thomas Boleyn shouted at the man who had arrived, whose name Anne hadn't managed to hear._

 _"You speak of such evils of sorcery as if it is something to be proud of. As if it was not bad enough that you sent a letter with these ridiculous claims but you dare come here in person. Such lies you tell," her father had yelled._

" _They are not lies", the stranger informed Thomas. " Your daughter Anne belongs at Hogwarts, with others of the kind. She needs to learn how to use her powers or she may end losing control"_

 _"Lies! You just see that she has a sharp mind and wish to take her away to use yourself" rebuked Thomas._

 _"There have been strange incidences haven't there, things you cant explain. Occurrences that shouldn't happen" said the stranger. As he said this Anne couldn't help but think of the time when she had been playing with George, despite warnings from her governess not to, lest she spoil her dress. Of course, she had refused to listen and had fallen over in the mud, as well as snagging her dress on a rock. It was ruined and a lovely dress it was too, only presented to her earlier for an important occasion. She had slowly headed back inside dreading what would happen, not wanting to hear the shouting nor feel the physical sting of punishment. To her amazement however, just before she saw her governess, she looked down and saw her dress was as pristine as it had been upon putting it on this morning. Not a speck of mud in sight._

 _Anne realised her father was yelling again, and not long after the gentleman was ordered to leave. As he turned sadly away he glanced at her, where she had thought she was well hidden. He gave her a short bow and said "My lady"._

Anne was startle out of her memory by that voice again.

" My lady?"

 _"_ You! This is impossible. Impossible. I am not here. It was all lies. Hogwarts is not real." Anne started rambling. "No. You're trying to trick me. Please. Let me leave. I need my brother, where's George? Is he here? I'm sorry for what I have done. Don't punish him, please no." She started spinning around looking for a way out. She spotted a door a fled towards it. She pulled it open and ran down the spiral staircase that lay behind it, ignoring the voices behind her come back. When she reached the bottom she carried on running even if not knowing the way. She seemed to be in a castle or palace with many corridors and rooms on every side. She stopped to catch her breath before noticing that the castle was in a great state of disrepair, with piles of rubble everywhere, holes in the wall, great cracks in the ceiling above her. Then she noticed it, blood everywhere. She gazed in horror, before slowly and carefully walking on where she come cross a great black mass. Curiosity overtook her as she studied it, before letting out a blood curdling scream. It was a spider, dead as far as she could tell but far bigger than any spider should be. It would have been bigger than herself. Everything started to blur around her, this latest discovery being too much. For the second time in a short period of time, ground rushed towards her, and she welcomed oblivion.

A/N: Again forgive any spelling or grammatical errors. This chapter is finished far quicker than expected, though I don't expect the rest to be as easy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own any rights nor make any profit from my writings.**

 _"Henry, please. Henry, please."_

 _"_ _You and I are both young, boys will follow"_

 _"_ _Your majesty, I beseech you"_

 _"_ _Shut your eyes, as your betters have done before you"_

 _"_ _In any case, I have only a little neck"_

 _"_ _I see now that god will not grant me any male children"_

 _"_ _For the love of Elizabeth have mercy... love of Elizabeth..._ Elizabeth... Elizabeth."

Anne started awake, her daughters image burned into her eyes, voices of memories ringing in her ears, though it was soon replaced with the frantic sound of people running about. She felt disorientated, unable to comprehend where she was for a moment. As she axed around she realised that she was lying on a small bed, covered with crisp white sheets. The smell of the room was most unusual. She slowly looked around and saw she was surrounded by other beds, all with occupants in them. People were running around, so many of them covered in mud and blood. One woman was waving a stick above a person three beds down. Another woman went rushing by, arms full of cloths, a man chasing after her clutching three with strange liquids sloshing around inside of them.

"Madam Pomfrey" he yelled. "That's the last of the blood replenisher to be found."

"That's it?" the woman with the stick yelled "I suppose it will have to do". She carried on waving her arms after grabbing one of the bottles. Anne could not see clearly what happened next. She looked away observing more of what was happening around her before closing her eyes to try and make sense of it all.

Minutes passed and the hustle quietened down slowly. She then heard the woman that had been identified as Madam Pomfrey say "well he is stabilised for the time being".

"Oh Poppy, do you really think he is going to make it?" asked an unfamiliar woman voice.

"I honestly don't know. He was so severely injured . There is only so much I can do as a mediwitch not a healer. I just don't trust his hopes should he go to St Mungos. Too many people hate him there" replied Madam Pomfrey.

"We all hated him, we all misjudged him." Replied the other woman.

"Its what he wanted it seems. Don't be to harsh on yourself Minerva. Is it true what Potter said. All for ..."

"Lily, Aye. How were we to know?" Minerva paused for a moment, deep in thought before changing the subject. " Now what about your other patients?"

"I sent most to St Mungos. There were far too any for me to handle. I kept some though. Those that simply need a nights rest. And, well, her."

"Do we still have no idea who she is?"

"None Minerva, she was just found passed out in the corridor. She didn't seem to be injured until I saw her neck. Merlin Minerva, I have never seen anything like it! I looks like her head was cut off then stuck perfectly back on again. No spell I know can do that. Once a head is off there is no going back."

"Must be a dark spell."

"I would imagine so , but ...oh merlin. Albus, go away. If Dillys catches you in her frame she'll kill you."

"I'm sure she will but I need to talk about this young woman." Anne realised she recognised the voice from the room she was in earlier.

"You know her Albus?" asked Minerva.

"I had never laid eyes on her until I saw her in the office a few hours ago."

"The headmasters office?"

"Indeed. When we were resuming our places we noticed her sat there, utterly confused. She had no clue where she was. However she did seem to recognise Benedict."

"What. But he was headmaster centuries ago!" exclaimed Minerva.

"I know. She did seem most distressed and ran away before we could find out anything," said Albus.

"Why would she recognise him though?" questioned Madam Pomfrey.

" Why not ask the lady herself. She is after all awake". Anne immediately cringed when she realised that she had been found out but dutifully opened her eyes.

"Hello my dear, how you feeling?" asked Madam Pomfrey.

" Well, thank you." Anne answered quietly.

"Well you have us in quite a kafuffle, though to be honest we were anyway. Do you remember what happened?" asked Minerva. Anne looked at her before answering. Minerva seemed a lot older than her, and though she looked exhausted, she was still holding herself up and Anne knew she would not put up with any nonsense.

"I was executed." Anne replied simply.

"By death eaters?" enquired Minerva. Anne slowly shook her head wondering what on earth a death eater was.

"By my husband. Well a swordsman he hired to do the job. I had displeased him, and he wished to replace me with another". The two women and the man in the portrait looked horrified by that.

"But they weren't successful . You are still alive." Stated Madam Pomfrey. Anne again shook his head.

"He was. I remember the pain of the blow and falling. Then I woke up here, I thought I was awaiting my judgement, but I see I was wrong."

"Well that explains the injury, but not how you survived." Said Minerva.

"Perhaps it was Hogwarts." Said Albus. Everyone shot a look at him.

"What, how. Albus that is a little far fetched." Said Minerva disbelievingly

"Not at all. We have had many occurrences when students in trouble have suddenly found the castle helping them. However forgive an old man, I have been an teacher here for many decades and I do not remember you." Said Albus directly addressing Anne.

"I never came here. My father received a letter and when someone came to explain I was forbidden from coming".  
"Not unheard of for muggleborns to not be allowed to attend but increasingly rare." Minerva stated. She tried to rack her memory over her did the visits just over twenty years ago she estimated. As far as she was aware it was herself. "Who was it that came dear."

" I never caught his name. I saw him earlier though. In that room where you first saw me." Explained Anne. The others gasped.

"You can't mean Benedict. The one who you were staring at." Asked Albus quickly. Anne just nodded.

"But...he's been dead since 1600, very nearly 400 years." Anne didn't say anything as she processed that new information. She had travelled to the future. Impossible. Then, she supposed, so was magic and talking portraits. The other were just stood there, staring at her, seemingly trying to figure out if she was telling the truth. After a few moments Minerva stirred.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Anne. Anne Boleyn." For a moment the other occupants of the room seemed dumbfounded.

"The Anne Boleyn. Second wife to Henry the Eighth?" Questioned Albus.

"Correct. You know of me?" Anne asked hopefully. If they knew of her perhaps someone had meddled in her cause, perhaps someone had managed to protect Elizabeth.

"Know of you. I'm afraid we don't know too much of you. Your daughter of the other hand is extremely well known, even in this world." Annes heart stopped for a moment.

"Elizabeth. She's alright?."

"She was, though of course I have to remind you that she lived 400 years ago, and alas is no longer on this earth." Albus gently reminded. Anne froze, feeling her heart break. For a moment she had forgotten, hoped that she would be reunited with her daughter. Now she knew it would never happen. Anne felt a tear slip from her eyes as she thought how cruel the fates were, saving her life but now she should live while her daughters bones were almost certainly rotted away.

"Do not despair entirely, Lady Boleyn, your daughters memory lives on in the hearts of many people. " said Albus

"How so?" questioned Anne, wanting to bear more of her precious girl.

"You daughter, even from so long ago, remains one of the most popular and famous of this country. Many historians argue that she is the greatest Monarch to have lived."

"She was queen? Henry never had a son? " This brought a smile to Anne lips, after all she had been through, he had failed in his one obsession.

"He did have a son, by his third wife, Jane Seymour I seem to recall." Anne stiffened perceptibly after hearing that winches name. Albus continued. "I don't recall too many details but from what I can remember, after Henry the Eighths death, his son succeeded him, though died not too many years into his rule. His other daughter, Mary, came to power but was very unpopular, earning the moniker Bloody Mary, for her love of burning people. After her death it was your daughters turn and I believe she ruled for over 40 years. She managed to broker a sort of peace between religions, as well as protect England from a ghastly invasion by the Spanish. She also helped to calm relations between our two worlds for a while, a sort of peaceful coexistence , which unfortunately disappeared upon her death. I am afraid I can't tell you much else, but I'm sure our library may hold books with more information for you."

"That is if any books survived Albus" injected Minerva. "The library was quite damaged in the battle."

"Ah yes. You arrived at the conclusion of a most terrible battle. We were at war you see, and only today were we successful at defeating the enemy. Its been a long and terrible time Lady Boleyn." explained Albus after seeing the confusion on Anne face.

"Yes and I need words with you mister about your treatment of people, namely Severus. What the hell did you do to that poor lad?" Minerva said confronting the portrait. Albus paled a moment as if only remembering what Minerva was talking about.

"Now Minerva, things had to happen to help ensure our victory, for the greater..."

"Don't give me that greater good rubbish. Your lucky your already dead. And what about Potter? Now you have returned from your history lesson lets look at the present. You sent three teenagers off on their own with the might of the ministry after them." Minervas voice got louder and more shrill as she went on.

"It was necessary!." Albus said trying to placate the irate witch.

"I'll give you necessary you bastard. Wait until I find some turpentine. Albus, get back here now. ALBUS! Don't you run away from me." Albus's picture had disappeared, darting from frame to frame, with Minerva charging after him, still yelling.

"Well now that they have gone, I must get back to my other patients." Madam Pomfrey handed her a glass with a strange looking concoction in it. "Drink up dear, it will help you rest. I am sure you need it." Anne agreed. Despite not having gotten out of bed she was starting to feel rather weary. Cautiously she drank the contents of the glass, almost immediately she felt sleepy. Madam Pomfrey gently took the glass out of her hand. As Anne lent back against her pillow, she felt herself drifting away trying to picture what Elizabeth would have looked like as queen. Contented Anne fell into a restful sleep.

A/N: Apologies for spelling and grammar mistakes but hope you enjoy the new chapter. None of my chapters are going to be overlong.


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